


put a ring on it

by MeredithMaybe



Series: Hamilton x Reader Oneshots [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Reunions, Meet the Family, Modern AU, One Big Happy Family, Protective Siblings, Weekend Getaway, but thats ok bc hes cute, philip hamilton is a huge dork, pip's also a dumbass, reader has a tiny family, starring bff!patsy jeffs, we'll see abt eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeredithMaybe/pseuds/MeredithMaybe
Summary: There were few things you hated more than your tall, arrogant, and downright annoying coworker who'd worked a desk away from you for the past four years -- maybe the true evils of the universe, genocide, nuclear war, or when your favorite pen runs out of ink, but regardless, quite the short list -- but before that weekend, you'd never had to choose between him and one of them. You especially never anticipated being forced to make a split-second decision between them. But when that exact choice leads to spending a weekend several hours away from everything you know, alone with him and his family, you can't help but wonder whether you'd made the right choice, or if his too-obnoxious-to-be-charming smile had made it for you.





	put a ring on it

**Author's Note:**

> it really is just very nearly pure fluff. enjoy, ladies, lads, and enby lovebugs.

"Pop, I just... I can't make it, ok? We're swamped at work, I'm sorry." Philip, your coworker, had been on his phone for at least half an hour, and at that point, he could be talking to the queen of England for all you cared. All you knew was that, regardless of whether  _he_  was on break,  _some_ people were still trying to work.

"Pop," he sighed, "I'm serious. I-  _we_  just can't make it."

You tried to tune it out, to focus on the tapping of your fingers on the keyboard instead of his droning behind you, but it wasn't easy.

"Pop!" he yelped, and you finally spared him a glance, your lips pursed as a scathing glare bored into his head, and as he met your gaze, you saw him slightly shrink away.

"Pop-" he had dropped his voice to a whisper, "-I-- yes, I  _know_ I haven't seen them in forever, but-- no, I know they aren't going to be back from France for long,  _I just can't_. And who are you to talk, Pop? I mean really, Mom was ready to divorce you for never leaving your work--"

You gritted your teeth and turned your attention back to your screen, refusing to let him distract you when you had a report due by the end of the day.

"Fine, Pop, I'll be there," he sighed, "Yes, I'm bringing her."

He let out an audible huff as he ended the call, and you glanced over to see him burying his face in his hands. You huffed and turned your head, trying again to focus, but it wasn't easy as Phillip would huff or sigh every couple of minutes as he texted. Finally, you turned to him with a sigh.

"Alright, Hamilton, what's the matter?" you asked in a bored tone of voice, "Sounds to me like you get to take time off work to spend with your family and... whoever  _her_ is."

"You wouldn't understand, Y/N," he sighed as he glanced up at me, before looking back at his phone.

"Then make me understand. Whatever grief you're going through is interrupting my work." You finally looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and he frowned.

"You really want to know?"

"I really want to finish editing this by the end of the day."

He pursed his lips and turned his gaze downwards as he tapped his foot, and you huffed. "Hamilton. Tell me, don't tell me, I don't care that much. But stop being so loud about it if you aren't going to."

"Alright, alright, Y/N. So I'm excited to see my family, but afforementioned 'her'--" he made air quotes, "--doesn't exist."

You stared at him blankly. "Then ask a friend. Problem solved."

"Will you come?" he asked, giving you a lopsided grin, and you scoffed.

"In your dreams."

"Then you don't know that I'll be able to find a date," he pointed out, a triumphant smirk creeping onto his face.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I can list three people  _right now_  who have been throwing themselves at you every time you see them."

"Oh? And who's that?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"I... didn't mean that literally."

He chuckled softly. "Right. Just get back to work, then."

As he shook his head at you, facing back to his computer as he began to type, you scowled. He couldn't have the last word. Your pride was more important than your deadline.

"Alice, the secretary," you said, and he looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

"You're actually about to do this?"

"Theo from HR," you continued, and he rolled his eyes.

"You're crazy. She does  _not_  throw herself at me."

"Please. She brings you coffee every morning and then proceeds to flirt with you for upwards of twenty minutes," you scoffed.

"I thought she was just friendly," he defended.

"Then why doesn't she bring me coffee?" You raised an eyebrow, and he just stared at you, silent. "Anyway, then there's Susan--"

"Our boss?!"

"The very same," you confirmed, "She gives you all the easy but impressive-sounding books to work with the authors on, interrupts me in meeting so you can speak, and always wears deep v-neck dresses when she sees you," you explained, a deadpanned expression on your face.

"How do you know all this and I don't?" he asked, before giving a mischievous grin, "Is Y/N jealous that they've been getting my attention more than her?"

"Oh, please--"

"Because if you want, I would be more than happy to focus my full attention on you." He raised his eyebrows with a seemingly innocent smile, but you scowled.

"If you do, you just might come to work one day to find your computer broken," you said, "now have you gotten that out of your system? Can you go back to work without making noise every ten seconds?"

He sighed. "Alright. Y/N. I guess there's really only one solution to this."

"Well good luck with that. Meanwhile, I'll be finishing this report by the end of today." You gave him a tight smile before turning back to your computer with a huff.

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Y/N." You heard the squeak that told you he had pushed out his chair, followed by retreating footsteps, which made your eyebrows shoot up.

"Hamilton? Hamilton you can't leave; work isn't over until five." When you didn't get an answer, you added, "Hamilton! Get back here! You can't-"

You cut yourself off with a groan as the door clicked shut behind him. It could be a long week.

 

* * *

 

You barely raised your head when the door slammed the next morning, an hour later than it should've.

"You're late, Hamilton." Your gaze fell immediately back down to your computer. He scoffed.

"Do you ever look away from that computer screen, Y/N?" he asked with a sigh, "Y/N."

"What do you want?" you huffed, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I brought you coffee." He gave you a small smile and held up the cup.

"Why?"

"'Why?' You mean I can't bring coffee for my best friend, Y/N?"

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "First off, we aren't friends. Second, what do you want this time?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Why do I have to want something to do something nice?"

"We've worked together for five years, I can see right through you. Don't bother with buttering me up."

He sighed. "Alright then, Y/N, I'll keep the coffee."

"Hey wait, you bought that for me," you protested, "Besides, don't you have the coffee Theo brought?"

He chuckled and walked over to you, handing you the coffee before taking a seat on the edge of your desk.

"Get off my desk."

"Don't you want to hear what I have to say?"

"Not particularly," you muttered.

"Well in any case, I have a request," he stated.

"Yeah, no kidding."

"So I was wondering if you would do me a big favor--"

"No," you cut him off right there. If the favor was anything bigger than lending him a pen, you were out.

"I haven't even told you what it is!" he protested.

"I don't do big favors for you."

"You finished my paperwork for me once," he pointed out.

"Susan let you off early and basically forced me to do it in your place."

"She didn--"

"Are we done here?" you asked wearily. At that point, you just wanted to get back to work.

"Can I at least finish my request?" he asked.

You sighed. "Go ahead, but just know that the answer is almost definitely a 'no.'"

"Well, here goes. Will you come home with me to my family reunion this weekend as my girlfriend?" He gave you a hopeful smile, and you almost laughed before realizing he was serious.

"We've had this conversation, Hamilton."

"I never got a straight answer, Y/N," he replied.

"Can't you just ask a friend?" you groaned.

"Yes, but no," he said slowly, making you raise an eyebrow.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"I may have told them that I've been dating you for the past two years?" He grinned, and your eyes widened.

"What the  _actual_  fuck, Hamilton?" you yelled.

"Calm down, Theo's going to file a noise complaint," he chuckled.

"Explain. Now," you demanded.

"Alright, well, about two years ago, my parents decided I hadn't been dating anyone for too long, so they were going to set me up with someone, and I panicked and told them I had a girlfriend," he said.

"How do I come into this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm getting there. Anyway, they naturally started asking questions, so I told them it was someone I worked with and didn't give them a name at that time, but remember the Christmas party two years ago? The one where you were blackout drunk and all affectionate with everyone?" he asked, chuckling at the memory.

"No."

"Well, they call it blackout drunk for a reason. Remember the staff picture from that night?"

You inhaled sharply. "Oh god, I do."

"Yeah. So that was our company Christmas card, and it was sent to my parents, and they started texting me about which one was my girlfriend."

You groaned, knowing where he was going with this. "And since I was too drunk to hold myself up and was basically leaning on you in the photo, they assumed it was me."

He nodded, giving an apologetic smile.

"Oh god, Hamilton.  _Oh god._ " You buried your face in your hands. "You couldn't have told them it was anyone else but the person who hated you?"

"Aw c'mon, Y/N, you've never hated me. You're clearly secretly madly in love with me and this is how you deal with it." He grinned at you, and you stared daggers into his smile.

"This is  _not_ the time, Hamilton," you hissed, "I can't fucking believe you. This is your mess, and you're going to have to find a solution. I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend."

"You said it yourself, Y/N, there are girls who would give anything for this," he said, leaning towards you to rest his elbows on your desk.

"I'm not one of them. Now get your ass off my desk," you grumbled.

"Y/N--" He was cut off by the door swinging open, and in walked Ms. Reynolds.

"Y/N, I need you to fly out to Michigan this weekend to interview Joseph Campbell," she said, leafing through the stack of papers she held, before looking up to see Phillip there, and plastering a smile across her face. "Oh, Philip! Hey!"

"Hey, Ms. Reynolds," he said with a smile, "Y/N and I were just chatting."

"Y/N, you need to get back to work. Now the Campbell interview?" she asked, looking at you expectantly.

"Can't you send someone else this time?" you groaned. Joseph Campbell was one of the few people who could truly drive you to the brink of insanity. "Can't Philip go?"

She looked to Philip with an eyebrow raised, and he flashed a charming smile before saying. "Ms. Reynolds, you know I would love to, but unfortunately this comes up at an inopportune time. I'm actually headed home for the long weekend to a family reunion."

"Oh, that's fine. Y/N can go instead."

"Thanks so much, Ms. Reynolds." He winked at her, and she blushed and giggled (like a two-year old, in your opinion).

"Actually, Ms. Reynolds, I'm also busy this weekend," you interjected, and she turned to you with her arms folded, a sceptical eyebrow raised.

"And what's that?"

"I, um--" You glared at Phillip as he gave you a triumphant smirk, "I am actually going with him."

Your boss gave you a disbelieving stare, and you shrugged, before she turned to Philip. "Is this true?"

"It certainly is, Ms. Reynolds. Thanks for understanding."

She gave him a curt nod before turning to glare at me as she left. As the door closed behind her, I turned back to Phillip.

"I  _swear_  you set that up. The timing was to perfect for that to be coincidence," you huffed.

"Hate to disappoint, but I have actually not been exploiting our boss." He grinned, and you scowled. "So we leave Thursday, after work."

"And we get back?"

"Monday night."

"God, I have never hated long weekends more than I do in this moment," you muttered, "I swear, this is such a cliche, Hamilton."

"It'll be a cliche when you fall for me," he said with a wink, and your stomach turned as you curled your upper lip in disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

You groaned loudly as you walked into your apartment, throwing your keys into a bowl by the door, and your roommate, Martha, turned around on the couch to look at you with an amused smile.

"What is it today, Y/N?"

You huffed, taking a seat at your kitched counter any burying your head in your hands.

"I can't begin to tell you how I got here," you whined, and she raised an eyebrow, crawling around to sit leaning over the back of the couch, her recent episode of Friends paused for the moment.

"Oh? Spill." You shot her a weak glare; she always had an ear for gossip.

"Get your own drama, Jefferson," you said, and she just grinned.

"Aw, c'mon watching Friends for the 50th time is getting repetitive," she pleaded, "You've gotta let me live vicariously through you."

"Maybe if you left the house for once, you wouldn't have to." You gave her a mock pout, and she scoffed.

"Oh, shut up, L/N, you know I'm waiting on from  _your_  publishing firm for word about my new novel," she pointed out, looking at you with her eyebrows raised. You flushed.

"You know it isn't  _my_  publishing firm," you mumbled.

"So spill. No sparing details." She hoisted herself over the back of the couch, ignoring your protests, and came to sit on the counter next to you. You groaned, somehow more dramatically than before.

"Y'know how I've been complaining about Hamilton to you for the past few weeks?"

"More like the past few years," she huffed. "Though I can't imagine why. That boy is  _hot_."

You glared at her. "He's also the biggest pain in my ass there ever was."

Martha raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, but you didn't deny it. Anyway, what about him?"

You scowled. "Well, the other shoe finally dropped."

"Are you using that idiom right?" She furrowed her brow, and you could only look at her in exasperation, wondering how she thought this was the right time to correct your English.

"Does it matter, Patsy?" you asked, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Anyway, long story short, I'm going home with him this weekend and pretending to be his girlfriend."

"You  _what!?"_  she yelped, her jaw dropping as she looked as though she wanted to laugh, but her expression of amusement quickly turned into an apologetic simper under your glare. "Okay, I'm sorry, but how does that even happen?"

Again, you groaned. "My goddamn fucking boss--"

"Susan," she muttered darkly. You had told her quite a few stories.

"--decided that Philip didn't have to go to interview Joseph Campbell because he was driving home for a family reunion--"

"Sounds fair enough." She shrugged, causing your glare to intensify.

"Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry." Her grin told you she wasn't.

"So she decided to try and dump the job on me instead."

"Haven't you taken, like, the last four Campbell interviews?" she asked, raising and eyebrow, and you huffed.

"Yes! I have! But nooooo, Y/N, Philip doesn't have to take responsibility for things, because I'm Susan and I'm in love with him," you sneered, mocking your boss, and Martha chuckled.

"Ouch. I'm surprised you haven't quit that job yet."

"C'mon, Pat, you know I worked too hard to get where I am to throw it away like that," you sighed, and she just rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." She furrowed her brow, looking at you inquisitively. "I still don't get how this ends with you pretending to be Philip's girlfriend for the weekend, though."

"I'm getting there," you assured her, "So basically, before she had walked in, he was explaining how he told his parents he had a girlfriend at work to get them off his back, and how when they saw a picture of me and him, they assumed it was me, so he needed me to come home with him as his girlfriend."

Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. "Wow... I... Wow. That's a lot."

"Tell me about it," you groaned.

"Couldn't he just say you couldn't make it that weekend?"

"Apparently, his lie had been going on for two years, and his family was getting suspicious and insistent about meeting me. Two  _fucking_  years, can you believe it, Patsy?" you huffed, and she looked at you pityingly.

"Why didn't you just say no?" she asked.

"It came down to either going to the Campbell interview for the whole-ass weekend or using that as the only excuse she'd accept." You groaned for what was probably the nineteenth time that day. "What do I do, Martha?"

"Suffer?" she suggested, and you glared. "Okay, okay, but seriously. What  _can_  you do except suffer?"

"Martha," you groaned.

"This is my advice." She deadpanned. "Take it or leave it."

"I'll leave it."

"Oh, so what, you aren't going to suffer?" she laughed, and you glared.

"Now I have to enjoy myself out of spite," you said.

"Bet."

You huffed. "I can't take that bet."

 

* * *

 

 

"Why did we have to take your car, again?" Phillip groaned as he climbed into your passenger seat, and you stuck your key into the ignition.

"I am doing this  _entire_ thing for you, I think it's only fair that I get to drive--"

"But what if you crash the car?" he whined, and you scoffed.

"Hamilton, just get in the car and accept the fact that I'm driving. Now c'mon, we're going to get there late at night as is, let's not make your parents stay up any later."

He pursed his lips and stared at you for a moment, before finally sighing and leaning back in his seat. "Well, if I die, at least I'm not dying alone."

Your huff only seemed to spur him on. "Hey, maybe we can get those cute graves where they bury a couple together, and they put both our names on a headstone."

"I am  _not_ going to make it through this weekend," you muttered, and his cheeky grin only served to prove that fact.

"So do you know how to get there? Have you made this trip before?" you asked as you turned left out of your office's parking lot. Philip had insisted that it would be a waste of a day if we drove upstate on Friday, so this was how you were spending your Thursday night.

"Yeah, a few times. I know generally where to go, but you might find yourself pulling up Google maps occasionally," he said, and you nodded.

"Well, I'll try not to get us lost. Left here, yeah?" You glanced at him and he confirmed you directions with a nod.

A few turns and several pick-up lines and jokes from Philip later, you couldn't handle listening to him.

"Hey, can you plug my phone into the aux and put on some music?" You were finally on the highway and no longer had to focus as much on the road.

"Sure, what's your password?"

"Just give me the phone; I'll do it." You held out an expectant hand, but he only cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Oh? What stuff do you have on here that's so terrible you can't give your  _boyfriend_  the password?" As you glanced over at him, he was wearing a dramatic pout and batting his eyelashes, which made you roll your eyes.

"What, haven't I told you about my hardcore porn file?" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now that I know, can't I just go into your phone?"

"Hamilton, give me the phone."

"What, don't you trust me, baby?"

You scowled at the nickname. "Hamilton."

"Y'know, Y/N, I doubt that a couple wouldn't even be on a first-name basis. You should really start getting used to calling me Philip," he said matter-of factly, "or if you prefer, something along the lines of Philip dearest, darling, baby, honey, sweetheart, sugar, etcetera."

"Got any mors of those in that little brain of yours, Hamilton?" you asked sarcastically.

"Lemme think," he tapped his chin and pursed his lips in mock thought, "There's also sweetie-pie, gorgeous, angel, love, dear. I've also got a few other languages if you're unsatisfied."

"Just stop, Hamilton."

"I mean, you're still calling me Hamilton, so clearly that wasn't quite enough. Petit chou--French for 'little cabbage', don't ask me why it's a term of endearment, terron de azucar--Spanish for 'lump of sugar', buah hatiku--Indonesian for 'fruit of my heart', um--"

" _Hamilton,_ " you warned, getting slowly more frustrated.

"Oh, I get it. That's not the kind of thing you're looking for," he nodded, and as you glanced over, you were terrified by the mischievous grin creeping onto his face, "Well, I guess if you're into that, there's dadd-"

"Hamilton!" you yelped. You were sure your face was bright red, and he laughed.

"I guess you couldn't exactly call me that in front of my parents, anyway, but y'know."

You scowled. "I think I'll be sticking with Philip." You glanced over to see him wearing a cheeky grin.

"I knew I'd wear you down."

"Don't look so smug, you motherfucker."

"Philip," he corrected you.

"Philip," you conceded with a sigh. It could be a _long_ weekend.


End file.
